


A Sensible Alternative

by Thistlerose



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Gen, Gen Fic, Hanukkah, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-17
Updated: 2010-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-13 17:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first Christmas after his divorce and his father's death, McCoy just can't get into the holiday spirit. Kirk offers him an alternative.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sensible Alternative

**Author's Note:**

> Written at the instigation of one Lauriegilbert, who also beta read. Inspired (somewhat) by the Colbert/Stewart duet, "Can I Interest You In Chanukah?"

Leonard spotted Jim while he was still a good way off, quickly pivoted on his heel, and started walking as fast as he could in the opposite direction. He didn’t know where he was going, nor did he care. All that mattered was that it was _away_. He hunched in his overcoat, ducking his chin into the folds of his woolen scarf, and hoped Jim hadn’t seen him.

“Bones!” Jim’s voice rang out across the frosty pavilion. “Hey, wait up!”

Damn.

He supposed he could pretend he hadn’t heard and just keep walking. Not that that would buy him anything. Unless he broke into a sprint or called for an emergency beam out, he had little chance now of avoiding Jim … who would only find him later, anyway. He could hide himself away in the darkest, most forlorn corner of the medical library, or the roughest dive in downtown San Francisco, but inevitably Jim found him. It was uncanny.

“Bones!”

He stopped walking. Moments later, Jim was frisking beside him like a goddamn puppy, clapping him on the shoulder, asking him how his shift at the infirmary had gone and if he had any plans for the evening.

“Badly and no,” Leonard grumped.

Jim’s face fell abruptly. He stopped bouncing and looked at Leonard with concern. “What happened?”

Leonard rolled his eyes. “Nothing. I just – never mind.” He jammed his gloved hands into his coat pockets and started walking again.

Jim hurried after. “Seriously, Bones. What?” Dropping his voice, he said anxiously, “D’you wanna go somewhere and talk?”

Leonard cast his gaze skyward. _God, give me strength._ “No, Jim,” he grated out, “I don’t want to talk about it. The only place I want to go is to my own room. Alone.”

“Oh.” Jim sounded liked he’d been punched.

Which, for some reason, made Leonard feel as if _he’d_ actually been punched. “Look,” he sighed. “It isn’t personal. I’m just having a bad day, and I’d like to be alone. It’s nothing you did, and there’s nothing you can do.”

He could feel the kid’s gaze on him, intense and probing. “But you’re coming out with the rest of us tonight, right? Christmas party at Dalton Hall? Or Whatever-Holiday-You-Feel-Like-Celebrating-Including-None-At-All party at Dalton? You’ve known about it for weeks. C’mon, it’ll be fun. Get you in the holiday spirit. Cadets only – though some of the guys were talking about heading downtown afterward. You’re coming, right?”

He could lie, he thought. He could say he just needed a few hours to himself, and then he’d be fit to interact with other sentient species. He’d catch hell for it later, but at least it would get Jim out of his hair, and probably give him until late tomorrow morning – or whenever the kid recovered from his hangover – to work through this morass of resentment and regret. Good plan. Unfortunately, he didn’t think he had the strength to make himself believable just then. And when Jim danced around him and put his hands on his shoulders, preventing him from going another step, he realized he didn’t have the heart, either.

“Look,” Leonard said again, trying to avoid Jim’s eyes. “I’m just not in the mood for a party. Not this year.” He jerked his thumb back in the direction of the infirmary. “I’ve got nurses in Santa hats, a lobby overflowing with poinsettia, carols playing non-stop in the break room… Enough, already. This year, I’m just not in the mood. But I don’t want to ruin anybody else’s holiday, so I’m locking myself in my room, and I’ll come out when it’s all over, assuming there are no medical emergencies. If you wanna do something for me this Christmas, do me a favor and don’t have a medical emergency. Least not until the twenty-sixth.”

He could easily have gone on. There was a rant teeming inside him, which he longed to unleash on someone. But not Jim.

The kid’s hands fell to his sides and he looked at Leonard with something that wasn’t _quite_ pity. “Okay, Bones. If you change your mind, though… Party starts at 2100. Or if you wanna just meet us for drinks afterward, we’ll probably start at Finley’s at around 2300. Send me a message. Or just show up.”

“We’ll see,” Leonard said, though he had no intention of going. Judging by the way his eyebrows pinched together, Jim probably knew that. But he let go and stepped back, allowing Leonard to continue unimpeded on his way.

Though he did call out, after Leonard had gone a few paces, “Hey, Bones, isn’t your dorm in the opposite direction?”

* * * *

“Stupid fucking holiday.” Leonard poured himself another finger of bourbon – his third, so far – and sank back against the pillows on his bed. Resting the glass on his chest, he glowered at it. “Stupid fucking carols. Stupid fucking parties.”

The sad thing was, he genuinely liked all of those things. Or had, back when he’d had a life, of sorts, and a blooming career as a surgeon. His former life. He’d loved Christmas as a boy. His parents had always gone all out, buying the most splendid eastern red cedar they could find and setting it up by the big bay windows in the living room. They’d had a set of antique ornaments, all delicate as spun sugar and frosted with glitter. His father used to hold him on his shoulders while his mother handed him the ornaments very carefully, one by one, and he, Leonard, had arranged them on the tree. Then, of course, there’d been the food: sugar cookies and gingerbread men, his grandmother’s honey-glazed ham… And there’d been presents. And music. And laughter.

As an adult, he’d loved taking Jocelyn to the holiday parties at Emory University Hospital. Loved showing her off to his friends and colleagues – damn, she’d been beautiful in that green velvet dress, her red hair shining like amber in the fairy lights’ glow – then taking her home and making love to her under the Christmas tree.

“God _damn_ it, Jocelyn.”

But, no, she wasn’t the source of his misery. He could curse her to the high heavens and wish upon her the coldest, bleakest, most miserable Christmas the great state of Georgia had ever known or ever would know – but she didn’t really deserve it and he knew it. Ultimately, the blame for everything that had gone wrong, with their marriage, with his career, even with his relationship with his mother, rested squarely on his shoulders.

“God damn it,” he muttered, running the tip of his index finger along the rim of his glass. “God fucking damn it.”

A year ago, his father had been alive. He’d been exhibiting the first symptoms of the disease that would claim his dignity and autonomy, but he’d been alive. There’d been hope. A year ago, his mother had been so proud of him and his accomplishments, had been looking forward to the grandchildren he and Joss had started discussing. A year ago…

“Oh, who gives a fuck?” Leonard knocked back the glass of bourbon, swallowing it down in one gulp. The back of his throat burned, as did the space between his eyes. He blinked, grimaced, then pushed himself up and groped for the bottle. As he did, he happened to glance at the timepiece on the wall above his desk.

2125.

Jim would be at that party at Dalton Hall by now. The realization gave him a pang of loneliness, but there was nothing he could do about that. He was not fit to interact with sentient species. He hoped the kid was having a good time and enjoying himself. He hoped he was managing to stay out of trouble. Considering it was Jim, that was probably a pretty tall order. Still … Leonard hoped.

 _Someone deserves to have a good holiday,_ he thought as he poured the bourbon. Hmm, not much left. Just enough to fog up his head, but not enough to send him into the oblivion he wanted. Needed. Fuck it.

He had the glass raised to his lips and was about to knock it back when his comm unit chirped, startling him so badly that he almost dropped his drink. Swearing, he reached for the comm unit and flipped it open.

“ _What_?” he barked.

Realizing belatedly that it could easily be an admiral or his advisor on the other end, he quickly added, “McCoy here.”

“ _Yeah, you’re there, all right._ ” Jim sounded amused. “ _Wanna buzz me in?_ ”

The answer on the tip of Leonard’s tongue was an emphatic _No,_ but he stopped himself and instead asked cautiously, “Are you alone?”

Jim’s laughter was clear and resonant; it made Leonard’s head throb. “ _Don’t worry, Bones, I come alone and unarmed. You can probably see me from your window if you doubt my good word._ ”

Leonard snorted, but he inched over to the window anyway and peered down at the footpath that ran between the dormitories. Sure enough, in a pool of wan lamplight, a solitary figure in a dark blue parka stood waving up at him. Jim had his knapsack with him and, despite himself, Leonard felt a tug of curiosity.

“Better be booze in that bag of yours,” he said, and on the path below, Jim threw his head back and whooped.

“ _You looked! I fucking_ knew _you’d look! I should be insulted._ ”

“You should get your ass up here,” Leonard growled. “I’m buzzing you in now, you damned infant.”

It took Jim about a minute to sprint up two flights of steps, which gave Leonard just enough time to hide what was left of the bourbon and tug his bedding into place. He didn’t know why he bothered; Jim knew he’d been wallowing all afternoon and evening. Still, when the kid appeared in his doorway, knapsack clutched to his chest, Leonard was trying to finger-comb his hair into something resembling neatness.

“You look just beautiful, Bones, don’t worry about it,” Jim said, shrugging out of his parka as the door slid shut behind him. He looked around. “Huh. Guess it’s not as bad as I thought.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jim grinned cheekily. “The way you were going on this afternoon, I was expecting to find a pile of crushed candy canes or desiccated wreaths or something. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

“There isn’t,” Leonard informed him dryly as he flopped into his desk chair. “C’mon, what are you doing here? Was the party really that bad? What’s in the bag?”

“All in due course, Bones, all in due course. Did you eat anything?”

Leonard actually had to think about that for a second. “Yeah,” he said finally.

“What did you eat?”

“What is this, an interrogation?”

“Did you have an actual meal? In the past couple of hours, did you consume anything that someone like, oh, I don’t know, a _doctor_ , would consider nutritious?”

Leonard raised an eyebrow. What the hell was Jim up to? “I had a packet of crackers and a bowl of onion soup. The powdered kind that you add water to and heat up. _Doctor_ Kirk,” he couldn’t resist adding.

Jim made a face. “And you give me shit about my diet. Fine, we’ll start with these.” He dropped the knapsack onto Leonard’s desk and unzipped the main compartment. He pulled out a small white bakery box tied neatly with green string. “Scalpel?” he said, holding out his hand. “Or scissors?”

Mystified, Leonard turned around in his chair, opened a drawer, and pulled out the tiny sewing kit he used to take with him when he traveled. Handing Jim the small scissors that came with the kit, he said, “Don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I’m still not in the mood for—”

“It isn’t Christmas cookies,” Jim assured him, snipping the string. “Or fruitcake, or plum pudding or anything else like that.” He opened the box, and Leonard craned his neck to look inside.

“Donuts?”

“Jelly donuts,” Jim said, lifting one out and offering it to Leonard. “ _Sufganiyot_ , in fact.”

“Gesundheit,” Leonard said politely.

“Infant,” Jim shot back. “The singular is _sufganiyah_. Derived from the Hebrew word for sponge. I guess in reference to the texture. Take it, it won’t bite.”

Leonard accepted the donut, which was dusted with powdered sugar and oozing a ruby red – strawberry, he assumed – jelly.

“They’re traditionally eaten on Chanukah,” Jim said, taking a donut for himself. “Because they’re deep-fried, because the oil, see—”

“I don’t celebrate Chanukah, Jim,” Leonard said.

“I know. I do.”

“ _You_ do?”

“Sure.” Jim perched on the edge of Leonard’s desk. “Why d’you sound so surprised?”

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “Guess I never really thought about it. You seemed pretty excited about the Christmas party at Dalton. Anyway, _kirk_ means church.”

“Kirk was my father’s name,” said Jim. “Before she married him, my mother’s last name was Goldman. Not that anyone in my family is really observant. We just had a few rituals that we didn’t always remember to do. If Mom made any kind of effort, it was because she wanted to feel some kind of connection to her own family … who were mostly gone by the time I was born. And also, Sam and I kind of enjoyed them. Some of them. Like the food.” He grinned and bit into his donut.

“Oh,” Leonard said. “Huh.” He bit into his.

Jim swallowed. “I’m not circumcised, by the way. Just in case you were wondering.”

Leonard doubled over, choking on powdered sugar. “I wasn’t,” he gasped while Jim rubbed his back soothingly. “That’s too much goddamn information.” Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.

“But you’re my doctor,” Jim said innocently.

With a warning growl, Leonard raised his head.

“And you’re blushing!”

“I am n— I was choking, you idiot! Was that your plan, to come over here and kill me? Put me out of my misery? Because, if it was, you might wanna pick a more expedient, less painful method!”

A neutral mask fell down over Jim’s features. “Didn’t realize my dick was gonna get you so worked up.”

“ _Jim._ ”

“Sorry.”

Leonard tossed the donut back into the box and rubbed a hand over his face. He got powdered sugar on his forehead and cheeks, but at that point he didn’t care. Slumping in his chair, he groaned, “Seriously, kid, what are you doing here? You should be out having fun. You worked hard this semester. You’ve earned the right to let go a little.”

“So’ve you,” Jim said.

“I don’t feel like celebrating.”

“Maybe I don’t either.”

Leonard looked at him skeptically.

Jim shrugged. “All right. I can sort of guess why you’re so down on the idea of Christmas this year. I mean, I don’t really _know_ , because you haven’t explicitly told me, but I can guess. And I get that. I didn’t come here to try to jolly you along or anything. Still…” He looked at the jelly donut in his hands. “I don’t think people should be alone on the holidays. I spent a lot of holidays alone, and I didn’t like it. I know we’re not the same, but I thought… If you weren’t up to celebrating your holiday, maybe you’d like to share mine.”

Leonard sat there in perfect silence for several long moments, staring at nothing. At length he cleared his throat and said, “So, for Christmas, you’re giving me … Chanukah?”

“Something like that,” said Jim.

“Something like that,” Leonard echoed softly.

“But if you really want me to go…”

Leonard shook himself mentally, and his eyes focused on Jim. He took in the pensive frown, the shadow of hurt behind the bright blue eyes. He breathed out slowly. Then, with some effort, he smiled. “Nah, it’s okay, kid. I appreciate it.”

“So … you want me to stay?”

“Do I have to say it?”

“I wouldn’t mind hearing it.”

“Stay, Jim,” Leonard said. The warmth in his tone might have been a bit forced, but it was worth it to see the kid’s face light up. “Stay. Just don’t tell me any more about your dick, okay?”

“It’s fucking amazing, Bones.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Here,” he said, grabbing the edge of the desk and levering himself to his feet, “sit down in a real chair. Lemme get you a glass. Haven’t got much bourbon left, but—”

“I came prepared.” Jim stuffed the rest of the donut into his mouth and reached back into the knapsack, pulling out something swathed carefully in a gray Starfleet Academy Athletics Department sweatshirt – something that turned out to be a bottle of Woodford Reserve. “I hope it’s a good one,” he said. “The woman at the liquor store said—”

“It’s good, Jim,” said Leonard, this time with genuine warmth. “Good choice.”

“I also brought some takeout, just in case you hadn’t had any dinner,” Jim went on, removing more items from the knapsack. “Fried okra from that Southern-style place down on Geary. Not much of a meal, but it’s fried. And it’s green, so I guess it’s sort of healthy. Hey, the biscuits are actually still warm. Awesome. I also brought us a menorah, had to borrow it from another guy on my squad. I have candles, too, and a lighter. Bones?” He’d become aware, finally, that Leonard was just standing there gazing at him. He frowned. “Everything okay? Candles are okay?”

“Candles are fine,” Leonard dimly heard himself say. There was a roaring in his ears and a rush of … something … in his heart. While he tried to come up with a word for it – it reminded him of the soaring feeling he used to get as he watched a flock of geese winging south – Jim upended the knapsack and shook out a pair of tiny plastic tops, which bounced and skittered across Leonard’s desk.

“I also bought us dreidels,” Jim said. “Pretty dumb, I know, but when we were little, my brother and I used to have these competitions…”

Someday, Leonard thought, he was going to tell Jim everything. Not tonight, but – someday. Everything about his father, his mother, and Jocelyn. How he’d fucked his life up so badly, he’d had no choice but to flee all he’d known, all that was safe and sacred to him. And it would be okay, he knew, as a feeling of contentment spread through him. Trusting Jim with his secrets … somehow, he just knew. It would be okay. And that knowledge was probably the best Christmas or Chanukah present he could have hoped for.

“Come on, kid,” he said with a grin. “Let’s light those candles.”

12/15/10


End file.
